Remus Lupin, the Dog, the Stag, the Rat & the Lily
by vivienneandfred
Summary: Remus Lupin is a werewolf, will Hogwarts discover his secret? James Potter is well loved, will he be so adored at Hogwarts? Sirius Black is from the Noble House of Black, will he live up to his parents' expectations?
1. Hide & Seek

DISCLAIMER: i own nothing, jk rowling owns everything.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: yay. i FINALLY finished the first chapter. lol. yeh i know it's very confusing now but it wasn't intitially going to be the first and then i realised it worked better this way because now it kind of has a sequence going. if anyone noticed. lol. anyway hope you like it and let me know because this is the most important one to get right and i hope i did and now i am rambling so i am going to stop. now. goodbye. okay just read it.

HIDE & SEEK:

A tawny-haired boy giggled ferociously as he yet again slipped passed his father's outstretched hands. John Lupin sighed but grinned through his exhaustion. Taming his young son was far from possible, it seemed.

The job of raising Remus had never been a relaxed one, and bathtime was no exception. In fact, bathtime was little Remus' least favourite occasion and he always let his parents know it.

He padded around on the carpet jovially on his small, podgy, bare feet. He was a very cheeky boy, Remus Lupin, and almost never did what he was told, straight away at least. But he had a golden heart and he did it without malicious intent and so it was hard not to be blinded by his charm. He knew not to cross the line, and on those occasions when he did, he realised it immediately and apologised. Even at the tender age of five and a half, he liked being liked, not being scolded.

His blue eyes flashed mischievously as his father made another, albeit half-hearted, attempt to grab him. Remus let out another giggle and almost collapsed as one foot slipped on the thick carpet and his small legs went flying. He regained his composure within seconds and was dancing around his father's feet once more. There were far too many close calls where Remus had nearly head butted the coffee table, a bookshelf, the sofa, several cabinets and the wall. It was a very cluttered living room.

The Lupin's bungalow was situated in a muggle village just outside of Blackpool. Martha Lupin had refused to let John bring Remus up around wizards, reasoning that he would spend all his adult years as a wizard so why not let her show him her way of life first. John had accepted if only to keep his muggle wife happy.

The bungalow itself was not big but it nevertheless accommodated its three occupants quite comfortably. It had a very large garden that stretched an acre to the west and south. The three Lupins were very happy there.

The minute Rosalind Lupin had opened the front door, having arrived home from her chat with their neighbour, Meryl Burgess, Remus was out of it like a shot.

"Remus John Lupin, you come back here right no-ow, mister!" John yelled out sternly, though his voice broke halfway through. The full moon winked at him mockingly from the living room window. He pulled himself up off his haunches and leapt out of the door after his son, leaving a stunned Rosalind standing uncertainly by the doorway.

Greyback was out tonight.

* * *

Remus sat just outside his father's office on a large and very wooden seat whilst John spoke to Mr Greyback. The muffled voices were rising from inside the office and Remus could not help but note the anger in his father's tone. 

"Fenrir, this is unacceptable! You know I can't make allowances, even for friends. I could lose my job for it."

"John, stop being so stiff! It isn't as if I am doing anything illegal. You said yourself it was a good idea."

"That was before I knew who you were going to use to make it happen! And what lengths you would go to achieve it."

"Oh, don't give me that! You knew just what I meant when I said I was appealing to the younger generations."

"Oh please, Fenrir! Appealing to the younger generations? You mean brainwashing them! And how legal, may I ask, are these plans, really? Do I trust that you won't do anything you will regret, because you know how terrible the burden is. You wouldn't inflict that on anyone else, would you?"

"Listen, John," Fenrir spat stiffly, "this is the last time I will ask you. Are you in?"

John Lupin was silent.

"No? Well, if you won't help me then consider this a warning." Fenrir spoke harshly, mockingly. "Of course, your son Remus is just the sort I'm looking for, you know. Yes, he could be brilliant."

Nothing more was said after that comment but Remus heard a thump followed by something heavy knocking into the closed door. He jumped in fright, nearly falling off his chair but composed himself in time to see a red-faced Fenrir Greyback emerging from the office. He paused, though, when he saw Remus.

"Ah, Remus, just the man. How are we, son?" Fenrir touched a calloused hand to Remus' cheek.

"Don't touch my son!" John Lupin hissed and wrenched Fenrir's hand away before standing himself between Fenrir and Remus. "Leave. Now."

"Touchy, touchy," Fenrir snarled but turned his back on them and retreated down the narrow corridor with regal speed.

* * *

His toes, dressed in white socks, pressed into the damp grass of the Lupin's vast and open garden lawn. Remus had run as far as his little legs would carry him, which happened to be the downtrodden greenhouse towards the back of their expansive garden. He hadn't dared run further than their house, knowing how dangerous it was and how much trouble he would be in. 

The windows of the greenhouse were grimy and cracked, and it was more than a little intimidating to a five year old, but shivering with cold and despite his better judgement, Remus entered the forbidden playhouse.

Perching himself uncertainly on a box of old apothecary jars, he waited for his Daddy to find him. He knew his father was clever, so he would definitely figure out where Remus was hidden, but Remus hoped it would be too late to have a bath by the time he did so.

But after what seemed like days to Remus, and what was actually three quarters of an hour later, John Lupin had still not found his son, who grew restless and more frightened by the second. With tears streaming down his face, Remus shakily lifted himself off the box and climbed back out of the greenhouse.

The cold wind whipped his body, startling him into a tremor of shivers. It stung his wet face and pulled at his long hair. He sobbed loudly and lifted his wet feet in turn and stomped them back down in a childish tantrum. He began wailing for his Daddy to come and get him but to no avail. Then he screamed in a very high-pitched, gurgling way.

The tantrum caught his stricken father, but closer to Remus another figure was alerted to his presence.

The werewolf eyed the distressed boy curiously.

* * *

The first scream had sounded upset, but when John heard the horrific secondscream his mind went blank and he felt his knees give way. But he had to find his son. Stumbling slightly, he forced his heavy feet forwards and made for the direction of the terrible cries. 

John collapsed at the sight of the tiny, crumpled figure, his breathing hoarse and unnatural. His large frame succumbed to the emotional sobs and he shook tremendously.

"No! Remus! M-my son!" his large hands grabbed at his son's torn and bloodied clothes. Remus wasn't moving, or breathing. John clutched Remus tightly and leaned over him protectively, desperately trying to find a sign of life in his only son.

He ran with Remus held tightly accross his chest to the bungalow and barely whispered his remorse to his wife, whose face paled but said nothing. She seemed not to be looking properly, not to be noticing her son's limp body, his bloody clothes, his disfigured shoulder. And then, quite suddenly, she dropped to the floor and screamed mercifully at the light-polluted sky, clutching her dark brown hair in angst. John looked at her firmly and she nodded weakly. Then he turned on the spot and vanished with a crack. He returned sixteen minutes later, having left Remus in the care of the healers, and Rosalind hesitated for only the smallest moment before clutching his arm and (x) Disapparating herself.

* * *

Remus couldn't open his eyes but already knew there was something wrong. His head pounded magnificently and he felt pain he had never experienced before running accross his left shoulder and the side of his chest. He tried to move his head but found he was unable to. Then he tried to move his fingers and again found them strangely numb. Finally he tried opening his eyes and was successful to the extent that they opened mere milimetres. All he saw was white and that was when he realised he was dead. He whimpered softly. 

At the small sound, Rosalind rushed to her son's side and grabbed his hand tightly. His insides jumped at the sight of her, prompting him to realise he was not in heaven after all.

"Oh my baby, my baby," Rosalind repeated over and over with tears glistening in her sad, brown eyes. Remus didn't understand nor could he feel or respond to his mother's touch. He only felt his head being stroked and realised by the heaviness that it was his father. He again tried to move his weak head but could not. As if sensing this, John leaned over his son so that he was directly in Remus' line of vision. He, too, had sad eyes but they weren't glistening with tears. They held another emotion but Remus didn't know it. Then he remembered that he hadn't taken his bath yet.

"Do I have to have my bath now?" he asked dejectedly and by barely moving his swollen lips. His voice sounded odd and croaky.

His father smiled weakly down at him but said nothing. Then he shook his head, for a long time, and when he finally stopped Remus realised he had started crying. He also noticed the grey in his father's hair more, and the wrinkles in his face seemed deeper. Even the crookedness of his nose seemed more pronounced. His eyes moved to trace over his mother, who was now shaking in tearful silence. Her long, usually perfect brown curls now hung limp around her heartshaped face. Her porcelain skin was now stained pink and red and her deep brown eyes were no longer shining with the usual laughter but dark with sorrow.

He felt his chest tighten and his eyes widened in fear. The fear swelled in him as his eyes dashed back and forth between his mum and dad, not knowing what was so upsetting and scared of finding out. His questioning eyes rested upon his father, boring into his own, grey eyes. John Lupin just stood there, bent over him, hand resting heavily on Remus' crown and silent waves of shock overcoming him every few seconds.

"Remus," he finally whispered, "the Healers have done their best over the last week but -" he faltered, "- but you have a new, a special - gift - and it - it - you will -"

By the whiteness of his knuckles, Remus realised his mother was squeezing his hand very tightly.

"Remus, you -you're -" she took over softly, "darling, you're a werewolf."

And Remus managed to squeeze her hand back.

* * *

Remus grinned the entire tube journey to King's Cross from Charing Cross - having taken a (x) portkey to the Leaky Cauldron - despite the discomfort he was in. Even when sleep finally stole him the smile remained at the corners of his mouth. Rosalind traced a long finger over one of her son's older scars on his cheek, wondering how it would be explained away to his new schoolmates.

She watched fondly as he slept, moving her hand up to run it gently through his tawny hair. It would be the last time in a month that she would see him, and she was deperately clinging onto every last second she had with her only child.

John, sat accross from the two of them, took in his wife's protective position and the deep red scar that adorned Remus' neck, not entirely hidden by his long hair. It was long inJohn's opinion, but as Remus often reminded him in his calm nature, it only just covered his neck.

The Scar ran down from his neck and accross and down his right shoulder. It hadn't dulled in colour at all in the six years it had burdened Remus' body. Remus didn't like that particular scar to be seen by anyone; the others faded, usually vanished by the Healers, but a werewolf bite is permanent. As if he needed another reminder, John thought bitterly.

John was saddened deeply by the effect That Night had had on his once bubbly, carefree and mischievous son. Now, Remus was always careful, quiet and very reserved. He never tried to be cheeky, and he was always so tired. Some of the old Remus remained; he was still charming and affectionate, and John caught the spark in Remus' eyes sometimes; the same spark he used to have when getting up to mischief.

John rubbed his face vigorously, trying to liven himself up a bit. Last night had been a particularly rough one for Remus, and John, who always stayed just outside the locked cellar during full moons, had endured an entire night of his son's painful howls. He hated hearing them, knowing he was to blame for every one of them. Oh yes, his wife often told him it wasn't his fault, that he couldn't place the guilt entirely on his own shoulders but John wouldn't hear it. It was he who had offended Fenrir, he who had practically offered Remus up as bait to him when he failed to stop him running out into the garden. It was he who wasn't quick enough to find Remus before It happened.

Remus stirred suddenly and John was pulled from his guilty thoughts as he watched his son grimace in pain. He was being selfish, wallowing in his own self pity when Remus was the one suffering this morning, the one who never complained, the one who always shamefully apologised whenever they had to uproot and move to another part of the North West, even though it was far from Remus' fault. John sighed and smiled as his son sleepily eyed him.

"Nearly there now."

* * *

Remus pressed his nose against the glass, staring out to his parents who were waving sadly up at him. There wasn't another soul bar them on the platform as it was only 7 o'clock in the morning. Most people would only just be eating breakfast, Remus thought as his stomach rumbled hungrily. 

He eyed his father, who had his eyebrows raised in a stern stare, telling him silently that he ought to be sleeping. It was for that reason, after all, that they had arrived so early. It always took Remus a good few hours to get into a comfortable sleep and so he needed the extra time before all the Hogwarts students began boarding. He slumped back against his seat and tried to get to sleep, knowing it would be futile despite his exhaustion, because he knew his parents would be stood there on the platform until it left. He felt guilty at the thought. His parents did so much for him and had sacrificed so much, all for his stupidity when he was younger. He'd never disobeyed his parents since, not once.

He closed his eyes and pulled his robes tighter around him, feeling cold from the lack of sleep. The words his father had said to him on the platform kept replaying in his ears.

"No-one can find out, Remus. Promise me now, Remus, that you won't let anyone get that close. You can't, it's just too risky, I'm sorry son." Remus had nodded, knowing he couldn't disobey his father and knowing how easy it would be anyway. No-one would want to get to know him, what with his pale, queasy skin and scars. No-one would look twice. And in any case, his condition had made him incredibly shy; having been shunned so often in his short life.

He took another fleeting glance out the window at his parents, who were now talking animatedly with each other, and sat back heavily against the cushioned seat. His eyes dropped down before he could protest and sleep came very easily to him, indeed. He dreamt about a castle full of magical creatures and spellbooks and enchanted staircases, and the smile reformed on his lips. He was really going. This was it. Remus Lupin was on his way to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

(x) For this case i am assuming / deciding that muggles can travel by portkey or by side-along-apparation. it was the only way i could make it work.


	2. Petunia's Plan

DISCLAIMER: i own nothing. jk rowling owns everything.

PETUNIA'S PLAN:

Petunia Evans awoke to the suspicion that she was not alone in her bedroom. She gathered her sleepy mind together and lifted herself up to a relaxed sitting position. The sound of heavy breathing confirmed her thoughts. She gazed down at the tangle of soft, luscious red curls that embraced her pillow and smiled. There must have been another storm last night, Petunia mused as she climbed quietly as possible out of the single bed in order not to disturb her younger sister's slumber.

Lily was always climbing into her bed in the middle of the night when the thunder frightened her. She would never wake Petunia, who she knew to be a heavy sleeper and would not likely have heard the raging storm like Lily. She felt safe with Petunia; like she could trust her with anything, any little secret, any little problem she might have. Petunia wasn't just her sister, she was her best friend. They were eternally bound to each other as loving siblings. She knew in her heart that she would never be without Petunia's love, ever.

Petunia ran a comb through her long, sweeping blonde curls before pulling on her crimson slippers and dressing gown. She plodded along the carpeted hall, passed the bathroom she shared with her sister and across to the steep staircase.

* * *

The clock on the oven told her in luminescent green that it was half past five. That was far too early for anyone else in her family to be up and in any case it was a Sunday. Petunia loved being an early riser; the time she had to herself was seldom and precious. With a sister like Lily it was hard to find time to herself. Not that she minded her sister's attentiveness, she just liked her own company a lot, too. 

She slipped across the white kitchen tiles towards the wooden breakfast table that sat by the glass doors leading out to their large garden. It was a pretty garden, very green with many magnificent showers of colourful plants. Her father should have won that Best Kept Garden award last year. It truly was a stunning sight.

After amusing herself with its presence for a short while she turned her back on the green lawns to contemplate her breakfast. She probably wouldn't eat for a few more hours as it was so early but she thought about it anyway. Her mind filled with images of fresh scrambled eggs accompanied by warm blueberry pancakes and hot, toasted fruit loaf. A grin spread across her thin, bony face.

Maybe it wasn't too early for breakfast.

* * *

Lily rose with a heavy sigh. Looking at the empty space that had once been filled with Petunia's narrow frame, the corners of her mouth turned up in appreciation. She was grateful on two counts for her sister. One, she never woke Lily up when she rose early in the morning and two, she never made a fuss when Lily crept into her room for comfort when she was scared. 

She lingered in her sister's room awhile, looking at all the different artefacts that lined her walls and shelves. She fumbled with an ornament of a fairy with glittery wings. Petunia had always loved the idea of magic. She always told Lily of how she had once seen a real-life fairy when she was four. Lily had doubted the truth of this statement.

Yes, she had believed in magic but until recently she had never quite allowed herself to succumb to dreaming about it.

Fingering a pot of skin-coloured powder, Lily wondered why Petunia put it on her face everyday. She picked up the soft, downy brush and dabbed the powder with it. Then she looked in the maple vanity mirror and ran the brush across her rosy cheek. Compared to her fair skin, the powder looked slightly tangerine.

She traced it over her forehead, nose and chin, not forgetting her neck as well. In her opinion, all it did was make her look slightly yellow and pasty. She replaced the lid on the pot and set it down with the brush on Petunia's desk and left her sister's room.

* * *

Lily emerged fully dressed in the doorway of the kitchen half an hour later. What she witnessed surprised her greatly. Petunia was backed into a corner by the microwave oven, the whites in her eyes showing as she whimpered slightly. Lily followed her sister's horrified gaze and almost laughed. A tawny owl was perched lightly on the end chair of the kitchen table, eyeing Petunia with what appeared to be contempt, though Lily reminded herself that animals did not know such emotions as contempt. What was most peculiar, though, was the yellowing envelope held in the owl's beak. 

No, it couldn't be, surely not? Lily made to move closer to the now sheet white Petunia but was halted by the owl's piercing, yellow eyes now looking directly at her. She let out a small squeak of fright, unsure of what to do.

And then to her astonishment, the bird ruffled its feathers and flew straight at her. She ducked in surprise but the owl just hovered a second before landing neatly on her small shoulder. Her eyes found Petunia, who hadn't moved an inch and was now staring at her, aghast. The owl's strong claws dug into the bone of her shoulder painfully, causing her to wince.

The owl, as if sensing her discomfort, loosened its grip slightly. She cocked her head towards it, eyeing it out of the corner of her eye. It looked at her innocently through its huge yellow eyes. It almost looked amused, and Lily realised why. She had been standing with her arms splayed, her knees bent and her upper body hunched forward. She must have looked a picture.

The letter, grasped tightly in the owl's beak, still had an address written on it in curvy handwriting which Lily could just make out through her awkward position. This morning just keeps getting stranger, she mused as she retraced the first four words.

_Miss Lily R_._ Evans_.

The owl continued looking at her and, if Lily wasn't mistaken, she could have sworn it nodded its head at her.

'How very peculiar,' she whispered, and with brash courage, she reached up and tenderly grasped the letter with her right hand. The owl, now resting comfortably on her left shoulder, opened its beak, allowing Lily to take the envelope. Once she had the letter securely in her two hands, the owl ruffled its feathers once and took flight out of the open glass doors. Lily, now free of the birds grip, moved over to the breakfast table and sat down on the chair which had housed the tawny owl.

She fingered the envelope, her envelope, gingerly; re-reading the address written in that loopy handwriting.

_Miss Lily R_._ Evans_

_3__rd__ bedroom_

_Upstairs_

_Holly House_

_Badgers Lane_

_Manchester_

Her fingertips touched something cool and sticky on the underside of the envelope and she flipped it over. Crimson wax sealed the envelope and was pressed with a crest inscribed with _Hogwarts School Of Witchcraft And Wizardry_. She let out a yelp of laughter at this. She had heard of the place from her best friend, Severus, who had told her that he would be going there in September. He had been absolutely sure that she would get in, too.

Curiosity coursing through her, she carefully broke the wax seal and removed the letter. It was yellowing like the envelope and was inscribed with the same loopy handwriting:

_HOGWARTS SCHOOL OF WITCHCRAFT & WIZARDRY_

_Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore _

_(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)_

_Dear Miss Evans,_

_We are pleased to inform you that you have a place at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment._  
_Term begins on 1 September. We await your owl by no later than 31 July._

Yours Sincerely,

_Minerva McGonagall_

_Deputy Headmistress_

Lily sat in silent awe. She had been accepted into Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardry. If that was true than that meant that she, Lily Rose Evans, really was a witch.

She soon became aware of the presence of her older sister. Petunia was hovering over her, expectantly. Lily handed the letter to Petunia with timid excitement. She watched Petunia's face as she read the letter. Her face soon contorted into a curious frown. She looked up from the letter at Lily, her expression unreadable. Then, quite swiftly, she turned on her heel and marched with the letter out of the kitchen. Lily heard her slippered feet stomping up the stairs and along the landing.

She was going to wake their parents.

* * *

Lily waited with baited breath as her parents bade goodbye to the lady who called herself Professor McGonagall. She was a funny little thing, in her forties at least and she had on the most peculiar clothes; a bright, fuschia pink shawl, and an orange tartan pencil skirt with a grey tweed overcoat. On her feet she wore tennis shoes over thick, woollen stockings. She had rested on her head what could only be described as a bonnet with dark green frills and tassles coming off it. 

In effect, she looked like her washing machine had thrown up on her. Lily remembered Severus telling her that witches and wizards wore robes, not 'muggle' clothing. Lily had suppressed a giggle when she had greeted her briefly. Soon after she had been escorted into the living room and had not been allowed back in the kitchen since.

Her parents had been talking with the strange lady for what seemed like hours but Lily could not hear a word, as if somebody had bewitched the door to stop her from hearing their conversation. She had smiled at this thought because, after all, it could quite possibly be true.

Petunia had told her crossly that the letter was a lie, a scam probably made by that 'silly boy' but Lily knew in her heart that this was not the case. She believed that Hogwarts was a real school and she believed that she really was a witch. And she most certainly believed in magic.

It would certainly explain a few things.

* * *

When she was a lot younger there had been an incident, as her principal had called it, at school. She had been involved, in fact, she had been in the very centre of it. Her teacher had been telling her off for putting sand in that awful boy, Neil Whitaker's book bag. Lily was trying to defend herself but the teacher was not listening to her, and she was getting very cross. 

So cross she wished that the teacher would sprout hair all over her face. The peculiar thing was, she did sprout hair. It covered her entire face and neck so she looked like a bear with peculiarlarly long eyebrows.

Lily felt incredibly guilty for having such mean thought of hers come true that she apologised to the teacher.

The teacher did not take it well, believing that Lily had, somehow, made it happen: that she was some sort of freak.

She had been moved to a different class the next day.

Of course, Severus had explained to her that it wasn't her fault, that she couldn't help it until she had her wand, and had been trained up a bit.

He had told her she was a witch the first time he had ever met her. She hadn't entirely believed him, then, but it had sounded so exciting. She had really hoped that he was right and now, well, now she was certain he was.

* * *

Petunia had been there, too, when she first met him. He had jumped out at them from a hedge near the playground and called her a witch without even asking her name. He had told her how he had watched her, how he had known for ages that she was a witch, like his mother. He had told them that he was a wizard. 

Petunia had laughed at him and taunted him. Then he called her a muddle, no Muggle. He had said it as though it were an insult, though neither girl had known the meaning of the word then. Lily had not liked him but she was curious, curious about what he had said about her. It had made sense.

It wasn't long before she had made friends with him and he was telling her all about this place called Hogwarts and how they would both go there and learn how to do magic properly. Of course, Petunia had maintained that it was a lie, that 'that Snape boy' was making it all up and making a fool of her. For the first time in her short life, Lily hadn't believed her older sister.

It made her feel sad whenever Severus told her that they would stay at Hogwarts for months at a time and that she wouldn't see Petunia. It made her sad to think that Petunia couldn't do magic and come with her. Before they had met Severus, Petunia had been entranced with the idea of magic. Now the very word made her frown.

* * *

Lily tugged at her sister's arm as she heard the front door click shut. She grinned nervously at her sister, who smiled half-heartedly back at her. Lily raced into the kitchen and immediately began harassing her parents with questions. They looked at her with the proudest grins spread across their faces. 

"Our little girl, a witch. Isn't it wonderful?" Mrs Evans cried out happily. Lily screamed, unable to contain herself any longer.

"Tuney, its true! Severus wasn't lying, I really am a witch! Isn't it wonderful? Oh Tuney, I'm going to Hogwarts!" Lily hugged her sister tightly, missing the sour look that had crossed Petunia's horsy face.

* * *

Lily sat in silence with Severus, the summer heat drawing the energy from the exhausted pair. Severus watched Lily's face as she read and re-read her own Hogwarts letter, and then compared it to his. They were identical apart from the name addressed at the top of the parchment. Lily grinned happily at Severus, who observed her closely and thought his words carefully over in his mind.

"You better be in Slytherin," Severus reminded his friend, as if daring her to defy him. She looked into his dark eyes, searching for something she didn't know if she would find. He looked away, his pallid cheeks reddening slightly at the intensity of her stare. His neck was flushed but he remained cool in his steady nature.

Lily wondered silently why her best friend wanted to go to the house which procured so many dark witches and wizards. She had read all about the Hogwarts houses in _Hogwarts_:_ A History_ – a book she had bought on her trip to Diagon Alley – and though Severus compelled her to be in Slytherin, she found herself drawn away from the house. Any of the other houses sounded perfectly fine to her; Griffindor, for the brave at heart; and Ravenclaw, for the clever-minded; even Hufflepuff, for the loyal. Slytherin, however, was for the cunning and pure-blooded, neither of which she considered herself to be.

Severus' persistence for getting sorted into Slytherin troubled her slightly; she realised that it was an unlikely path for her but Severus was certain he would get in.

Severus, himself, knew that if she were sorted outside of Slytherin they would eventually drift apart, and that would not do at all. He could not see himself without Lily, sweet, kind and pretty Lily with eyes as green as Salazar Slytherin's house. He would not lose her.

Lily stood up suddenly, and, before turning her back on the old playground, announced she was going home. She had some things to mull over in her mind, alone.

Severus rose rapidly and pleaded with Lily to stay out a little longer. Lily tried to ignore the desperate tone of his voice but found herself relinquishing at his request. She made a compromise. He could come over hers – Petunia was out with their mother all day so would not bother him – for half an hour. His sallow face lit up at the prospect of seeing inside his friend's home.

* * *

After watching the strange box with moving pictures for a while, they grew restless and Severus followed Lily upstairs to find some other form of entertainment. 

Lily remembered Petunia had a collection of puzzles in her wardrobe and ventured into her older sister's room, Severus in tow.

Behind her, Severus let out a gasp. She turned around to see what had caused it and Severus dangled a yellowing letter before her. Lily looked at it curiously, unsure as to why Severus was making such a fuss about it and then noticed the crest at the top of the parchment; _Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardry_.

But surely, no, she couldn't have, could she? Had Petunia been accepted too? With excitement tingling through her fingers she grabbed the letter and sat down on Petunia's bed to read it.

The letter was definitely addressed to a Miss Petunia L. Evans but, to her dismay, it was not announcing her acceptance but was kindly letting her know that she couldn't attend the same school as Lily. And instead of it being from Professor McGonagall, as her own had been, it was scribed by Headmaster Albus Dumbledore himself. Lily's heart dropped to her stomach and an ache rose up her spine.

She let out a sad sigh and refolded the letter. Petunia had obviously written to him asking if she could go to Hogwarts as well.

Severus took the letter back and read it quickly, a sly smile spreading across his pale face.

"I thought so when I saw it in here," he told Lily proudly, "how on earth did a muggle write to Dumbledore? That's not possible."

"Why not?" Lily asked defensively, reading his gleeful expression.

"Because, well, because we don't have the same postal systems, you know that. I told you our letters would come by owl. That is what the magical world use to communicate but she must have sent a letter by post to him, and that's just not possible," he exclaimed, brimming with curious excitement.

"But why?" Lily was on the verge of tears at the thought of her poor sister being told she possessed no magical qualities.

"Because muggles don't know about Hogwarts. The postal workers couldn't know where to send the letter as, according to them, Hogwarts doesn't exist."

"Well it must have worked because Dumbledore wrote her back," anger was rising in Lily's heart at the carelessness of her friend for her sister. Severus noted this and changed his tone.

"Dumbledore must have wizards working in the muggle postal service, then," he told her, satisfied that he had solved the mystery.

"Poor Tuney," Lily sighed, tears pricking her eyes.

* * *

Lily took a train with her parents and Petunia to King's Cross Station in London, as it was a long way to drive from Manchester. Lily sat in a two-seater with Petunia, in silence. 

Although she was thrilled to be finally almost on her way to Hogwarts, she was sad that she would not see her family until Christmas, and sad for Petunia, who she would miss the most and who would be most hurt by Lily's nearing departure. She felt a guilty twinge as she thought of Petunia's letter from Dumbledore.

When they reached King's Cross they were met by Mrs Snape, and Severus. Lily smiled briefly at Severus but focussed her attention on her sister, who needed her most now.

She tugged at Petunia's hand, pulling her towards the brick pillar between platforms nine and ten. Having been instructed carefully by Severus' mother, she and Petunia leant against the rough bricks and felt themselves slide through them. She heard Petunia wince as they moved across the magical barrier.

* * *

Lily looked around her apprehensively, everywhere she turned people were hugging their families and laughing and joking with each other. She spotted a few obvious first years that were mimicking her own nervous stance.

She looked over to where Severus stood several feet from her own family with his mother. Their eyes met briefly before she looked away quickly. He was not so fast in tearing his eyes away from her but she didn't notice, her attention focussed on Petunia.

Petunia was shrinking further and further towards their parents at every turn of her sour-faced head. Lily sensed this but tried to remind herself that her sister was only jealous. However, this had become a harder and harder act for Lily over the past couple of days, with Petunia becoming so distant and moody with her. And when a boy with messy black hair and glasses very near to them began talking excitedly about a game that involved flying on broomsticks – Kwiddish or something – it became too much for Petunia.

"Please lets go, Lily can see herself onto the train," she hissed at her mother with urgency, as if afraid her sister's 'disease' would spread to her. Gladys Evans looked at her strangely, completely unaware of her daughter's discomfort.

"Lily will not see herself onto the train, how could you say something so cold," Alfred Evans scorned. He gave Petunia a disapproving look before turning and whispering something to Gladys. Lily took the opportunity to grab Petunia's hand and drag her away from their parents slightly. She looked dolefully into her older sister's eyes.

"Listen, Tuney, I will be back for Christmas, that's only three months. Nothing is going to change," Lily stressed this last part.

"Everything has changed, Lily, don't you see. You're different. Nothing is ever going to be the same again," she chanced a quick glance around her, disgust written on her young face and continued, "you are one of _them_ now."

"But Tuney, I'm still Lily, I am still your sister and I still love you," Petunia's eyes fell to the floor, ignoring her sister's pleas. Finally, after what had been minutes of agony for Lily she spoke up, her eyes, however, never left her feet.

"So what happens when there is a big storm at this castle place, whose bed will you climb into then?" Lily's heart sank but shedid not answer. "You don't need me anymore."

"Oh Tuney, how can you say that? Of course I still need you. We are sisters, we always will be," Lily pleaded, begged with her sister, squeezing the bony fingers wrapped in her small hand. Petunia pulled away quickly as if only just noticing her sister's grasp.

"Oh Tuney, please! (x) I'm sorry Tuney, I'm sorry! Listen –" She caught her sister's hand and held tight to it, even though Petunia tried to pull it away. "Maybe once I'm there – no, listen Tuney! Maybe once I'm there, I'll be able to go to Professor Dumbledore and persuade him to change his mind!"

"I don't – want – to – go!" said Petunia, and she dragged her hand back out of her sister's grasp. "You think I want to go to some stupid castle and learn to be a – a –"

Her pale eyes roved over the platform, over the cats mewling in their owners' arms, over the owls fluttering and hooting each other in cages, over the students, some already in their long, black robes, loading trunks on to a scarlet steam engine or else greeting one another with glad cries after a summer apart.

"–you think I want to be a – a freak?"

* * *

Lily searched the busy corridor for an empty compartment, the wooden carriages and students' faces blurring through her tears. At last, near the end of the last carriage she found one with only one other boy in it. The boy was asleep, slumped sideways by the door, and looked a little sickly. 

Lily took a seat by the window, eyeing the boy nervously. He remained still and silent and she let out a small sob.

REFERENCE: (x) Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows - p536 - The Prince's Tale


	3. The Lighter Side of Black

DISCLAIMER: i own nothing. jk rowling owns everything.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: sorry if i confuse anyone but i hadnt put the chapters up in order yet, and it works better in my planned order. i wanted to see what people thought before i continued with the story and Petunia's Plan and Pracing Potter were the only chapters i had completed. there is a chapter before Petunia's Plan as well which i hope to get up within the next few days. i just have a few minor changes to make first. again sorry for any confusion.

THE LIGHTER SIDE OF BLACK:

Sirius lay on his bed, sulking. He played with Regulus' locket which he had nicked off him that morning. It hung from his extended right arm, its long chain twirling the locket back and forth dizzyingly.

Downstairs, his younger brother was showing off to their putrid cousins and his awful uncle, all under the encouragement of one Walburga Black, Sirius's delightful mother.

He cursed his family silently and stood up. Stretching out his scrawny arms, he tossed the locket into an unkempt corner of his bedroom. It was lost in the pile of stolen artefacts Sirius had collected through sheer boredom, and at his mother's expense, of course.

* * *

Sirius Black was not a fan of his parents' extremist views and thus did not get along with them as a result. His father was an incredibly strict, upright pureblood wizard whom never expressed emotion or allowed affection in his home, claiming it was not 'proper' or aristocratic. In other words, it was beneath him and anyone who resided under his roof. As for his mother, Sirius was constantly scolded and berated for one reason or other, even if it were simply that he had forgotten to comb his long hair, that which Walburga loved to proclaim was as Black as the family name. 

Ah, yes. The Ancient and Most Noble House of Black. In other words, a bunch of pureblood fanatics content on slating anyone considered beneath their 'royal' pureblood status. That included pretty much the entire wizarding world, at least in the eyes of Orion Black. As for all the scum that made up the rest of the magical world, well, they simply weren't significant enough to be regarded by wizards at any length, and certainly not as equals.

This most definitely applied to werewolves. In fact, this was Orion's favourite dinnertime discussion topic, discussion used in the lightest sense of the word. Dinnertime at Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place more often than not consisted of Orion Black stating his fascist views to his sons and wife with the occasional nod or choice words of agreement.

Walburga sometimes added her own opinions to her husband's lectures on bloodlines and unworthy dark creatures, but to her own detriment. Orion simply blocked or shot down his wife's interjections. This led to Walburga taking out her frustrations on her two sons.

While Regulus allowed his parents to force their immoral opinions on him, due to his apparent lack of spine, Sirius refused to bow down to them. Therefore it was Sirius who most often bore the brunt of his mother's wounded pride. This only deepened his loathing of his mother and caused their already slippery relationship to regress further.

* * *

Sirius sighed and, surrendering to his dull boredom, made his way slowly and regretfully to the gathered clan of Blacks. Before entering the drawing room, he ran a hand through his long hair, deliberately messing it up. 

As predicted, his mother gave him a cold stare before pointedly glancing at the top of his head. He raised his eyebrows in mock innocence, then smiled deeply at his mother's rising temper. She supressed it, though, to make the announcement of her eldest son's arrival. She made sure to mention how much her son was looking forward to taking his place in Slytherin that September. Sirius scowled but remained silent as his father and uncle delved into a passionate debate about Sirius' potential at Hogwarts and the house which had housed the entire Black family.

Sirius allowed his mind to wander to his favourite cousin and his Uncle Alphie. Andromeda Black had just finished her seventh year at Hogwarts but was not present today which Sirius had a feeling had something to do with her boyfriend, Ted. He had been mentioned once by Walburga in an offhand statement as being a muggleborn. Sirius knew what this meant in his mother's eyes; he was scum absolutely unworthy of cavorting with a Black. As such, Andromeda was not in Walburga's goodbooks, so her absence came as no real surprise. It was still disappointing, though, for she was the only thing that prevented these Black family reunions from being totally and utterly disasterous for Sirius.

Uncle Alphard Black rarely turned up for these reunions, either, having made his opinions about his family's so-called supremicism more than clear. He, like Sirius and Dromeda, did not consider being a Black a gift but more of a curse. He despised all the things his sister and the rest of the Black line prided themselves on. So naturally, Sirius got along very well with his Uncle Alphie, considering him the only of his elders he had any respect for.

* * *

Sirius tried to block out his cousin Bella's shrill voice as she told of her husband, Rodolphus' and her plans to join an organisation know as the Death Eaters. Sirius cringed at the very thought; the Death Eaters were known for their proactive approach to ridding the wizarding community of mudbloods and half-bloods. They were the worst kind of wizards, Dark as was possible. 

It was hours before Sirius could retire back to his bedroom, deathly depressed and irritated, having listened to an extensive talk on nasty dark creatures, emphasis on werewolves, and how they ought to all be exterminated. Sirius vehemently disagreed with their opinions but felt it would be unwise to express this to them. The debate had then turned into a very critical look at the Ministry of Magic, whom Orion thought was completely useless and outdated.

* * *

But, back in the sanity of his bedroom, Sirius was able to remind himself that he was escaping this prison in no less than five weeks. He had mixed feelings about going to Hogwarts, however. 

On the one hand, he couldn't wait to escape his parent's supremist ideals, while on the other hand, he was dreading the impending Sorting. How could he possibly spend the next seven years as a Slytherin? He kicked the wall by his bed in frustration, willing himself not to be Sorted into the darkest of houses, but knowing that in truth, his wishing was futile. He was a Black, and that meant he was destined to a life as a dark or dark-supporting wizard. And though he'd never daretell his parents this, Sirius would rather have been born a muggle than live up to their fascist views.

* * *

In the next few weeks he was lucky enough to see a large amount of his extended family as the summer holidays set in. It was just one torturous day after another for Sirius, only broken by his own brilliant pranking; he had a gift for troublemaking that he used against his mother and cousins as much as he could. It always ended with him facing his father's cane, or worse, Walburga's wrath, but it was worth it. It was for a good cause; his sanity. 

As it happened, this afternoon he found himself again in his father's study, awaiting the verdict of what his punishment would undertake. It was not entirely his own fault that he had ended up there yet again. Dear Narcissa knew just how to wind him up and today had been far more than he could take. He was usually able to ignore his cousin's taunting but today he had snapped. She had gone too far. She had called him a muggle-lover.

Now, Sirius was by no means a pureblood supremist, but he would not go as far as to say he was a muggle-_lover_. Some of what his parents had drilled into him must have sunk in as he found himself very insulted by the idea. It was simply beneath him, even if it meant he agreed with his mother on something; muggles just weren't as great as wizards. Yes, he would rather have been a muggle than a Dark wizard but that was just to emphasise his hatred of the Dark Arts. He would never lower himself to that of a muggle, given the choice, in any other circumstance. Like his father always said, it was not aristocratic.

So, in answer to his cousin's insult, he managed to throw the entire collection of Kreacher, the house elf's, dirty loincloths over her empty, blonde head and then proceeded to fling dungbombs into her horrified, pretty face. She had screamed the house down and thus Sirius had ended up before his father, who was sternly telling him off in a very uninterested tone. It was tiresome, the amount of times Sirius had stood before him in the same sistuation.

Orion never yelled, he left that to his wife, but he knew just how to get under Sirius' skin with his words and punishments. And so, Sirius left his office feeling close to losing his temper, which he did so the minute he saw his brother's arrogant, 'you-ought-to-try-being-more-like-me' face.

He locked Regulus in Kreacher's cupboard under the stove, only letting him out when his mother began to wonder where her favourite son had got to. He had had enough punishments for today – cleaning every roof tile on Number Twelve, the muggle way, to be completed the next day in the early hours before dawn – so he didn't hasten to add fuel to the fire. He knew, also, Regulus was not stupid enough to turn him in, not when he knew firsthand what his elder brother was capable of.

That didn't stop him from getting up early just so he could watch Sirius scrub the rooftiles with a toothbrush. Sirius ignored his gloating taunts, knowing he would soon be far, far away from his stupid brother and even worse parents in Hogwarts.

* * *

Sirius was far from delighted to find, on the morning he was going to board the Hogwarts Express, that they would be accompanied by Narcissa to King's Cross Station. He did perk up when he noticed a slight odour accompanying his cousin, who obviously handn't managed to eradicate the stench of Kreacher vs dungbombs entirely. He grinned at her in mock politeness and she sneered at him in what Sirius though was a threatening tone. He wasn't intimidated. Even with her bratty boyfriend, Lucius, Narcissa was pretty much harmless. 

When they reached the barrier between platform's Nine and Ten, Walburga Black pulled Narcissa into a tight embrace and wished her luck for the new school year. She told Narcissa to 'watch over him' and to make sure that Sirius got onto the train okay. Then she gave Sirius a curt nod and left, with Regulus obediently at her side like a pathetic puppy.

Narcissa crossed the barrier without a word to Sirius, who had to work out how to cross it by himself. Once on the other side he noted that Narcissa had joined a group of other fifth year Slytherins, including Lucius Malfoy, and realised with malice that she was not going to help him safely onto the train. He liked it better that way; alone. At least that way he only had to think about himself.

Sirius took his time boarding the train, watching all the families saying heartfelt goodbyes and students embracing in what appeared to be excited reunions. He curled his lip up at the sight. Happy families were for the weak and Sirius Black was not weak.

When he caught sight of Narcissa boarding the Express with Lucius, however, he saw an opportunity not to be missed. He followed them discreetly, his trunk packed into a cabin down the end, and felt in his jean pockets, checking his stock.

* * *

As the smell began to permeate through the air, Sirius threw open the compartment door and ran out. But he didn't get very far as he knocked into a boy with messy black hair and glasses. Narcissa's squealing erupted from the compartment and Sirius grinned at the questioning look on the boy's face. 

"I'd get the hell away from here if I were you. You don't want to face cousin Cissy's wrath. She may be thick but she knows a good hex or two," Sirius yelled at him before turning and bolting down the corridor.

He ended up meeting the boy again in the end cabin where Sirius had stowed his trunk earlier.

"Everywhere's full here, mate," the boy said and Sirius was slightly taken aback by the informality and friendliness of the statement.

"Not quite," he motioned to the compartment they were stood by, before introducing himself to the boy.

"James Potter. I don't suppose you're a fan of quidditch?"


	4. Prancing Potter

DISCLAIMER: i own nothing. jk rowling owns everything.

PRANCING POTTER:

James Potter, knowing full well what was awaiting him downstairs, threw himself out of bed and hurtled into the bathroom to make himself presentable. Presentation was, after all, everything. Even if it was only for his parents and a letter that would seal his fate in the magical world.

He took the steps two at a time, crashing down the many flights of stairs until he reached the smell of fried eggs, and the kitchen.

"So?" he said expectantly to his father, who was sat at the dining table reading the Daily Prophet. He looked up over his reading glasses and eyed his animated son with amusement.

Elliot Potter folded the paper in his hands, bent forward slightly and reached for the stack of letters that had arrived by owl that morning.

"Let me see," he said slowly, peering through his glasses again. He ran a hand through his messy, greying hair before rifling through the letters. "Ah, here we are."

James' eyes lit up, a sparkle of mischief present in their blue haze, at his father's discovery. He stared at him, dancing on the balls of his feet.

"Yes, this is it. I've been waiting for my membership to the Senior Wizards Workers Union to be accepted for weeks. Now I can get that discount on Leander Lewald's Common Charms for Hair Regrowth and Other Side-Effects of Age at Flourish & Blotts."

James deflated. Elliot looked at his son's disappointed face with a knowing and satisfied curl to his lips.

"Oh, there is something else here. I think it's a letter for you, actually. Were you expecting something from a Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry?" James shouted in reply and hurled himself at his father's outstretched hand, which held the yellowing envelope deigned with loopy handwriting.

James ripped the envelope open, read the first line, shouted again, jumped up and down, hugged his mother – who had just appeared in her apron – and threw the letter at his father.

"Read it! I don't think I believe it, yet!" James ordered his father breathlessly. His father consented and read the entire letter before confirming James' acceptance.

"Yes, it appears you have been accepted, son," Elliot said, "but remember what I told you."

"Have fun but don't get caught," James grinned, repeating his father's words.

Mrs Potter huffed disapprovingly but said nothing, knowing full well nothing she could say would deter her only son from causing trouble.

* * *

James ran a nervous hand through his wild, raven-black hair. He stood watching Elliot Potter, with his face pulled into a look of complete concentration, his mouth open a little with the strain. His father pulled up gracefully beside him and dismounted his broomstick with ease. 

James stared at him, mesmerised. How could someone that old do something that cool? He grinned at his dad and ran his thin hand over the smooth surface of the broom's handle. James was a competent flyer, actually he was more than competent; he was fantastic. But modesty is always the best policy, as his mother so often told him.

With a flourish, James mounted the broomstick and kicked off hard from the ground. He waved nonchalantly to his father as he tread closer to the clouds before being enveloped within them. Mr Potter could only hear his son's exhuberance and joy, the clouds were so thick.

Later, with all four feet on the ground – three, actually, as Elliot had his left ankle poised elegantly over his right thigh – James and his father sat discussing Quidditch tactics in the kitchen.

"Now, James, I do hope you aren't expecting you will make the team this year, because that feat hasn't been achieved by a first year in over 80 years."

"Yeah, yeah, Dad, but they haven't seen me yet. You wait, Gryffindor won't know what's hit them!" James grinned toothily at his father, who rolled his eyes from behind his mug of hot chocolate. James took a sip from his own mug before continuing, a warm, tingling feeling reaching every part of him as he did so. "And then there's my Reverse Pass. They won't be able to resist me when they see that."

Realising he was fighting a losing battle, and knowing it was only with a half-hearted effort anyway, Elliot relented to allowing his son to explain how he had improved the technique by adding a false dive, leading opposing Chasers to believe he was attempting to escape them, only to pass the quaffle over his shoulder to a teammate behind.

As much as did not want to give his son false hope, he knew James was a brilliant flyer. After all, he had been taught by the master. Elliot shared his passion for Quidditch with his son every chance he got, and so it was to the sound of groans from the two of them that Edwina Potter announced that they were to clean up and set the table for dinner, the muggle way. She was a brave woman to interrupt two Potter males from a discussion of Quidditch, but Mrs Potter had a look that made both men in her life do as told, with immediate effect. And she used it to her advantage at every opportunity.

* * *

She was a clever woman, Edwina, and a brilliant Healer at that. It was during healer training that she had met Elliot Potter and the two fell in love. But it was to be many long years before they would have a son, their only son. They were both in their late thirties by the time James arrived and this, coupled with his being an only child, led to him being a pampered but inevitably lonely boy. 

The Potters lived in a small village with no young families about so James did not get to play with many children. He did, however, have a very playful and boyish father who never missed an opportunity to kid about with his son. So although lacking in much contact with kids his own age, James was not lacking in social charm or skill. He had been raised well.

* * *

James Potter couldn't hide his excitement as he turned his head in every direction, hoping to take in every detail of the platform, and the magnificent train. The train upon which he would begin his Hogwarts life. 

"Dad, just look at it. Look at it! Is it the same train you went on? Blimey, it must be old then." Elliot pretended to be offended but his son was so wrapped up in his new world that he didn't even notice. Elliot just chuckled lightly.

"Oh, but Dad, what about my Cleansweep? You said yourself the school brooms are awful. How am I supposed to impress the Quidditch Captain riding one of those?" James looked up at his father despairingly.

"Son, you know first years aren't allowed their own broomsticks. You will have to make do. Anyway, I thought you said you were a shoo-in for the team. You shouldn't need a flashy broomstick if you're that good," Mr Potter reasoned.

"Yeah, but, well of course I don't _need_ my Cleansweep, it's just, you know, we're very attached you see." James grinned and watched as a girl with long, dark red hair tugged the hand of an older, bony girl. The girl with red hair was very pretty with pretty green eyes. "But of course, I could make the team on the old school brooms easily. I still have my Reverse Pass."

* * *

As James hurried down the narrow corridor, searching for a compartment, a tall boy with elegant, shoulder-length black hair emerged from a compartment to his right with speed and the two collided. James was about to shout at the boy to watch where he was going when he heard screams of horror sounding from the compartment the boy had just exited. 

James eyed the boy questioningly and he grinned.

"I'd get the hell away from here if I were you. You don't want to face cousin Cissy's wrath. She may be thick but she knows a good hex or two," the boy grinned wickedly again before turning and running down the corridor in the direction James had just come.

James would have took the time to shout 'hey!' after him but the door to the compartment was opening and he didn't want to find out what hexes 'cousin Cissy' knew.

James turned in the same direction as the black-haired boy and bolted away from the apparent crime scene.

He caught up with the boy in the last carriage, where James knew every compartment to be occupied.

"Everywhere's full here, mate," James gasped, clutching a stitch in his side.

"Not quite," the boy replied, motioning with his head towards the compartment they had both stopped at. "Oh, and I'm Sirius, by the way. Sirius Black."

James shook Sirius' outstretched hand, introducing himself. He had heard that name before, Black, but where?

They entered the compartment in still rather swift haste and sat down opposite each other. James glanced at the boy with tawny hair who was slumped forwards next to him, asleep. He looked very pale, like he'd had a rough night.

"Alright?" Sirius said to the red haired girl James had seen on the platform, who was sat by the window on Sirius' side. She continued to look out of the window as if she hadn't heard him.

"I said, are you alright?" Sirius repeated himself a little louder. After recieving nothing but a blank stare he shrugged and turned his attention to his new aquaintance. James noticed the tear as it slid down the girl's cheek but said nothing.

"Sorry about earlier, just thought I'd get a headstart on annoying my dear cousin Narcissa. Such a charming girl, she is. Fascinated with the Dark Arts. My mother loves her," he said this last comment with as much contempt as could be placed on the four words. But upon meeting James' eyes he smiled.

"So, what was it? Dungbombs or stink-pellets? Nothing else I know could make a girl shriek that much," James grinned back.

Sirius let out a bark-like laugh and nodded. "Both."

"Brilliant."

* * *

James and Sirius were just discussing the finer points of the Chudley Cannons keeper with a boy named Peter Pettigrew, who had joined them, when a sallow faced boy with greasy black hair entered the compartment, already dressed in his robes. He sat down next to James by the window without a syllable of greeting leaving his thin lips. They both ignored the new occupant, putting him down to a lack of taste. 

"I don't want to talk to you," piped up the red haired girl by Sirius boldly.

(x) "Why not?"

"Tuney h – hates me. Because we saw that letter from Dumbledore."

"So what?"

She threw him a look of deep dislike.

"So she's my sister!"

"She's only a –" He caught himself quickly, the girl, too busy trying to wipe her eyes without being noticed, did not hear him.

"But we're going!" he said, unable to suppress the exhileration in his voice. "This is it! We're off to Hogwarts!"

She nodded, mopping her eyes, but in spite of herself, she smiled.

"You'd better be in Slytherin," he said, encouraged that she had brightened a little.

"Slytherin?"

At the mention of the word, James turned away from Sirius to stare at the pallid boy.

"Who wants to be in Slytherin? I think I'd leave, wouldn't you?" James asked Sirius, whose face darkened.

"My whole family have been in Slytherin," he said.

"Blimey," said James, "and I thought you seemed all right!"

Sirius grinned.

"Maybe I'll break the tradition. Where are you heading, if you've got the choice?"

James lifted an invisible sword.

"_'Gryffindor, where dwell the brave at heart!' _Like my dad."

The greasy haired boy made a small, disparaging noise. James turned on him.

"Got a problem with that?"

"No," said the boy, though his slight sneer said otherwise. "If you'd rather be brawny than brainy –"

"Where're you hoping to go, seeing as you're neither?" interjected Sirius.

James roared with laughter. The red haired girl sat up, rather flushed, and looked from James to Sirius in dislike.

"Come on, Severus, let's find another compartment."

"Oooooo..."

James and Sirius imitated her lofty voice, James tried to trip Snape as he passed.

"See ya, Snivellus!" (x) Sirius called after them as the compartment door slammed.

James and Sirius looked at each other and burst out laughing again, though James felt a small pang of guilt as he remembered the look on the girl's face as she left. Peter grinned at them, hesitant but grateful that he had not recieved the same welcome as that Severus boy.

* * *

Sirius was still shaking with laughter when the food trolley came around. 

"Do you think we should wake him up?" Peter asked quietly, as if afraid to make a suggestion to his new 'friends', as he peered at the boy to James' right.

"He sure looks like he could do with eating something. What d'you reckon's up with him? He looks barely far from death," Sirius responded.

"Dunno, but he looks pretty ill to me," Peter stated more confidently.

James nodded and poked the small, sleeping figure. He stirred slightly but merely turned away from the direction of James' prodding. James looked at Sirius. Sirius stood up and moved towards the boy.

"Oi, mate, wake up, food's here!" Sirius all but shouted as he leaned over the slight boy, who woke with a start.

"Ah, that's better," James said and introduced himself, Sirius and Peter.

"I'm Remus Lupin," the boy offered, still drenched with the fatigue of sleep.

REFERENCE: (x) Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows – p538-9 – The Prince's Tale


	5. A Loyal Rat?

DISCLAIMER: i own nothing. jk rowling owns everything. tear.

A LOYAL RAT:

Peter Pettigrew couldn't believe his luck. He had found not one, but three friends, on the very first day no least, and what was more amazing was they were actually kind of fun. And laidback. And talkative. And funny. And cool.

He grinned as the four of them made their way out of the train and onto the cold, dark platform. Suddenly, a great man stood directly infront of them and bellowed at the top of his lungs "Firs' years, this way! Follo' me!"

Peter ducked in fright whilst James and Sirius looked at each other and laughed. Remus grinned, somewhat lightly, and, upon noticing Peter watching him, reached a long, thin hand up to wrap around his neck, almost protectively. Peter shrugged off his nerves and laughed along with James, as Sirius held a conversation with the giant-man.

He stood at least eight feet tall with big, bushy hair and a matching, wild beard. He was wearing a foul, moleskin overcoat which only heightened the intimidating effect he had on the new Hogwarts students. But as Peter looked around, he realised that alot of the older students were greeting the giant-man with warmth and friendliness. Maybe he wasn't an ogre. Or maybe they were so frightened by him they were being polite to save their own skins. Peter shuddered involuntarily and waited for his friends to stop conversing with the ogre-giant-man. He wanted to get as far away from him as possible.

* * *

James and Sirius, on being confronted with the hurdle of climbing into a water-bound boat, stepped confidently into the vessel and sat down with ease. Remus climbed in next, giving Sirius a withering look as he gently rocked the boat, causing Remus to nearly lose his balance. This would have been disasterous as he was currently straddling the boat and the bank. Sirius stopped long enough for Remus to clamber on, and started up again the minute Peter picked a weary foot off the ground and poised it over the wooden boat.

He tried to mimick the look Remus had given Sirius, but was not particularly successful. Sirius began to up the anti and would have been content with knocking Peter into the water if it hadn't been for Remus.

Remus gave Sirius his same withering look and punched him lightly in the arm. Sirius took immediate offense and shoved a fist carelessly into Remus' chest. Though the touch was hardly brutal, Remus grimaced with pain. He clutched his chest lightly, and then, as if realising a mistake, pulled himself up higher in his seat and turned the grimace into an unenthusiastic smile. Through the distraction, Peter managed to climb onto the boat and seat himself next to Remus, who wore the same, pained expression the entire journey on the boat.

* * *

As the boats magically stopped just offshore, Sirius swore loudly. He and James had been messing about and he had only just clapped eyes on the magnificent castle before them.

"Blimey, and there I was thinking we were going to live in a great, huge castle," Peter looked incredulously at James, who continued, "when all along we were going to live in a bloody gigantic beast of a castle to beat all castles!" He grinned toothily as he stared upwards in awe.

"Firs' years, c'mon. This way, please. Follo' me," Hagrid called from somewhere to their right. All four boys, stood craning their necks up at the castle, hadn't noticed everyone else leaving to go inside.

Remus was first to spot that they were now alone.

"Er, guys, everyone's gone."

James and Sirius teared they eyes away from the castle to look around them.

"Oh, yes. You're quite right, Remus. How ever will we get inside now?" James asked mockingly, as he smiled mischievously in Sirius' direction.

"No need to fret, dear James, I have a plan."

Peter perked up at the sound of this, what with Sirius' suggestive tone, he just knew it would involve something fun. Sirius took out his wand and, with a laxy flick of his wrist and a short incantation, shot a bunch of red sparks up into the air, directly above them. Peter looked on impressively, eager to see him do something else. But he was disappointed.

In all his suggestiveness, Sirius had only actually alerted a very harrassed looking witch with a pointed hat, who turned out to be Professor McGonagall, to their presence, or rather, lack thereof, inside the castle walls. She hurried the four of them inside, simultaneously praising and scolding Sirius for his use of magic. And she told them all off for having gotten separated from the other first years in the first place. Sirius merely wore a gloating smirk as they followed the professor into the magnificent castle.

* * *

Peter shook nervously as he stood next to Remus, watching Professor McGonagall place a very old and tattered wizard's hat on a stool right in front of a long table which he guessed was housing the Hogwarts professors. In the centre of the table sat a man with a long, silvery beard and half moon spectacles. Peter recognised him from his chocolate frogs card; Headmaster Albus Dumbledore. 

James, who stood before Peter in the line of first years, had an air of cockiness about him. He didn't seem at all nervous about the impending sorting. Sirius, beside James, was the complete opposite. He kept glancing to his left at James and Peter caught the anxious expression on his handsome face more than once. Sirius was clearly worried he would end up in the house that had housed his entire family for centuries; Slytherin.

Professor McGonagall began to read out names from a list, one at a time, whilst the nominated students stepped forth and were presented with the Sorting Hat. Peter's chest tightened in fear as he watched the Sorting of Aldridge, Percival.

"Black, Sirius." Sirius swore loudly and, after a stern glare from Professor McGonagall, made his way up the steps to sit on the wooden stool. He placed the Hat uncertainly over his head and, as his hands left the floppy rim, it fell forwards over his eyes. His lips formed a small 'o' as the Sorted Hat considered him. Sirius heard it's deliberation in his ears, and listened with baited breath;

'Ah, another Black. This should be easy - but wait! - no, there is courage in your heart, and a disinct distaste for your family? Could this be, a Black who does not possess the family charm for manipulation? No, I know just where to place you -but I never thought the day would come -' Sirius inhaled sharply, "- GRYFFINDOR!"

The annoucement was met by silent shock. Hogwarts, who had known three Blacks be sorted into Slytherin in the past decade, were thrown by the Sorting of the latest succession. Was it a joke? But as the new Gryffindor sauntered over to his House table, smirking at the Slytherins as he went, the Hogwarts population accepted the revelation and a slow, trickling applause broke out. It soon erupted into tumultuous applause, and catcalls from the Gryffindor end, and Sirius took his seat proudly, winking at James.

A girl with long, sweeping dark red hair crept timidly to the stool and sat down. The Hat was placed gently over her head and within seconds Gryffindor became her new home, too. The table rang out in praise once again.

"HUFFLEPUFF!" The Sorting Hat announced of a Lowrie, Hetty and the yellow and black decorated table cheered.

Xenophilius Lovegood took up his place in Ravenclaw and then came Remus' turn.

Hogwarts watched on as the sickly looking boy took his seat and the hat was placed over his head. Another Hufflepuff, surely, he looked far too weak to be placed anywhere else. Then again;

"GRYFFINDOR!" The latest Gryffindor took his seat happily next to Sirius, who clapped him on the back, hard. Peter saw him grimace again, but, caught up in the rush of the Sorting, thought nothing of it.

In what felt like years later Pettigrew, Peter was called up to the stool. He sat awkwardly on the edge of the stool, a pained expression on his face as he awaited the verdict. The Hat took a good, long time to deliberate over him, longer even than Sirius.

'Hmm, oh you possess attributes worthy of a Slytherin, yes, but your bloodline decieves you. Pity, you could have been great, you know. Not quick-witted enough for Ravenclaw, and your loyalty is questionable. You have a thirst to be accepted, not alike a Gryffindor -' 'Please, let it be Gryffindor, please!' Peter thought desperately; he didn't want to be separated from the friends he had only just made. 'Well you have some moral fibre in you, yes, I suppose, if you wish -' "GRYFFINDOR!"

Peter sank deep into the stool in relief. However, as he walked over to the red and gold decorated table a cloud of uncertainty washed over him. Was he a true Gryffindor if he had begged to be placed there? And what did the Hat mean, he would have been great in Slytherin? His concern was interrupted by the sight of a now nervous James walking up to the stool.

As soon as the hat had touched his raven-black hair, it bellowed "GRYFFINDOR!" without a hint of hesitation. He grinned and readjusted his glasses on the bridge of his nose. He sat opposite Sirius and returned his wink with renewed flair.

Peter smiled smally, the cloud returning to burden his worried mind.

* * *

Later that evening, after the brilliant feast which had left all four bellies more than adequately stuffed, Peter sat in the first year Gryffindor boy's dormitory, huddled together with the other three on the floor between two beds. Sirius was still marvelling at his luck at being placed in Gryffindor. 

"My mother's going to have a fit," he said in his regal voice, though it hinted at the glee spread accross his face. "Ha!"

James sat with his shoulders high and proud and stated;

"You know, I think that Evans girl rather likes me."

Sirius let out a bark-like laugh.

"In your dreams, Potter, didn't you see her turn up her nose at the sight of your unkempt hair?" James ran a hand through his thick hair, taking on a look of mock offence.

"Oh, so you think your balmy aristocratic charm will sway her then?" James teased, ruining his hurt expression by grinning again.

"What can I say, the ladies love a man with class," Sirius leant back, the heels of his palms pressing into the elegant carpet.

"Class? Is that what you call it? You're deluded, mate." James took on a more serious tone, "Evans only has eyes for me."

"Sure, Potter, you just let your small mind relish in it's own misbelief," Sirius patted James' shoulder patronisingly. James swatted his hand away but remained silent. The dreamy look in his eyes told Peter he was still thinking about the pretty redhead.

Peter, who had been watching the interaction between Sirius and James with unashamed admiration, now turned his watery blue eyes to Remus, who had been silent since they had left the feast. Looking at him closely, Peter realised how exhausted the skinny boy looked, as if he hadn't slept a wink the night before. His eyes kept drooping heavily, and he seemed to be straining just to keep his head upright. Peter also noticed that the pained grimace was present once again on his thin face.

"You alright, Remus?" Peter asked hesitantly, and sat back slightly to await reaction from James or Sirius.

"Blimey, mate, did you sleep at all last night?" James asked him, apparently having just noticed the fatigue affecting his new friend.

"Is that why you were asleep on the train this morning?" Peter asked boldly, feeling more confident with James' input.

"Um, yeah, stomach bug or something," Remus answered bluntly.

"Ah, nervous about coming here, I expect?" Sirius joined in the conversation.

"Yeah, um, something like that," Remus answered, again rather closed.

"I kept dreaming that I ended up in Slytherin like my cousins and that ole' Dumbledore decided to expel me because my hair was too black and then I had to live in Kreacher's cupboard for the rest of my life," Sirius shuddered at the thought, but smiled encouragingly at Remus, clearly wanting Remus to take his lead and open up more.

"I guess I was worried Professor Dumbledore would change his mind and not let me in, after all," Remus supplied quietly, and then immediately winced as if realising he had said too much.

"Why would he change his mind? It's not like you're a Squib or anything," Sirius questioned. Remus shook his head, his eyes concentrated on the small patch of carpet by his feet.

"Yeah, I know, just being stupid, I guess," Remus didn't sound convinced, but when he looked up, directly at Sirius, his expression told them all that the subject was closed.

Peter wasn't really interested in Remus' self-doubt. He was much more interested in the certitude of his own place at Hogwarts. He fiddled with his new Gryffindor badge absentmindedly.


	6. Walburga's Wrath

DISCLAIMER: i own nothing. jk rowling owns everything. i know, tear.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: i hope you like it. please review and let me know, i really appreciate them. ; )

WALBURGA'S WRATH:

Sirius Black didn't sleep in his bed. He paced the dormitory instead, angst rushing through him. He had wanted to be free of his family for so long - he enjoyed taunting his mother with any small betrayal he could - but never, never had he crossed his parents so powerfully.

He already knew what awaited him in the morning, and he wanted to prolong it as much as he could. He glanced at the sleeping figure usually accustomed as James Potter. He was lying on his back, his mouth open and a rasping sound was coming from him. Sirius smiled at the unkempt sight of his new friend. His eyes roamed over the closed curtains of his other new friend, Remus Lupin.

Remus had closed the curtains before getting changed and hadn't opened them again, simply muttering a muffled "G'night" to the room at large.

Sirius wondered why a boy his age felt the need to be so reserved. He almost got the impression he was hiding something. Maybe he had a bad family-life like Sirius, himself? However, he was still very friendly, and had quite a quick tongue on him, despite the introvertedness. He had a brilliant sense of humour, Sirius mused.

Sirius' eyes now traced the quilt-covered lump that represented one Peter Pettigrew. He was not an agreeable kid, in Sirius' opinion. He seemed to almost suck up to James and himself, like he couldn't make up his mind of what to think until either of them voiced an opinion. He would agree vehemently once they had, though. It was irritating to Sirius, although James seemed to enjoy being admired so unashamedly. Sirius figured that was probably why James had let Peter follow them around, he enjoyed having his ego stroked. Not that Sirius had anything against that, himself, he just didn't like Peter. He was annoyingly spineless.

A grunt shook Sirius from his thoughts, and he wheeled around to once again face Remus' curtained bed. Remus was no longer still, as the red curtains displayed clearly. He must have been thrashing about in his bed very violently. A frown formed on Sirius' forehead and he crossed the small distance between him and Remus' bed. A yelp sounded from inside the curtained space, followed by a gasp and then the slight body of Remus, wrapped in the torn red bedcurtains, fell unceremoniously onto Sirius' bare feet.

Sirius bit his tongue to keep from yelling out in pain. Remus' eyes were closed tightly, he was still asleep, and still dreaming by the look of it. The expression on his thin face was one of pain, and incontrovertable terror, and he was writhing about terribly. Sirius was quite unsure what to do. He felt compassionately drawn to Remus, maybe because they both shared a terrible homelife. But he also felt he shouldn't interfere. Remus kept himself to himself, so Sirius figured he wouldn't like the idea that Sirius had even witnessed his nightmare, let alone comforted him through it. But his compassion won over and he grabbed the small boy gently, whispering comfortingly to him.

"Shh, it's just a dream. Just a dream. Nothing can hurt you. You are safe here. I've got you. You're okay."

Remus' body stilled eventually, his eyelids relaxed, and Sirius was able to unwrap him from the tangle of bedclothes and curtain, and lift him back onto the bed. He then performed a simple _Reparo_ spell on the ripped curtain.

Sirius sat down heavily on the carpet by Remus' bed, underneath the window, and stared blankly at the closed curtains. He didn't want his thoughts to linger on Remus too much, feeling it would be betraying him in some way and, as consequence, his mind wandered to his own family again and the old agitation came back, renewed.

He fisted his hands, digging his nails into his palms and relishing in the slight relief the pain gave him. As much as he despised his parents greatly, the idea of betraying them so blatantly, especially when it was a dream he had had since he was nine, was almost too much, even for him. He stared up at the waning moon, and it blurrred in his hard stare. He hated the moon, it always reminded him of the ridiculous tradition of naming all descendants of the Black family after stars. How pathetically arrogant.

* * *

Sirius felt something nudge him in the small of his back. He tried to ignore it but it seemed that whatever it was wouldn't take to being ignored. A slightly more aggressive nudge met his thigh. Another kicked him in the sole of his foot. 

"What?" he mumbled sleepily. Another nudge to his back was his only reply. He groaned and pulled himself up off his stomach and held himself up with his elbows.

"What?" It was only as he yelled angrily that he realised he was lying on the floor of the dormitory. He turned his head as far as it would go to his left and met James' hazel eyes.

"Time for breakfast, Mister Black." Sirius moaned and slumped back onto the carpet. "Up you get, sleepyhead."

"I'm not going," Sirius announced to the carpet.

"What, and miss all those scrumptious, mouthwatering crumpets and porridge and pumpkin juice and bacon and blueberry muffins and -"

"I'm not going," Sirius said more forcefully, sitting up.

"But why?" James asked, sounding like a whiny two-year-old.

"None of your flaming business, actually. But do stop the whining, please, you're giving me a headache."

"Not until you tell me why you feel it is so necessary to skip the most important meal of the day. And we get our timetables this morning." James' eyes sparkled. "Ah, the joy of learning."

Sirius realised he was fighting a losing battle. He glared at James, who grinned back.

"I'm taking a shower," Sirius stated. James followed him all the way to the shower room. Sirius sighed. "Oh, how rude of me, would you like to watch?"

"Ooh, yes please!" James said with mock excitement. He remained where he was, however.

"What?" Sirius asked, adding as much exhasperation as he could to the word.

"Why don't you want to go to breakfast? You can tell old Jamesy boy."

"I'd rather not, thankyou."

"Oh, it can't be that awful," James continued, undeterred by the look Sirius was now giving him.

"Just drop it, okay?" Sirius all but growled.

"Okay, Sir Grumpybum, but you have not heard the last from me." James turned and stalked out of the shower room. Sirius wondered at that moment when they had gotten so friendly in the day and a half of knowing each other. It seemed James was one of those people who embraced friendship with a fierce reverence. Sirius marvelled at how he had ended up with someone so opposite to all his family's own values as a friend. He shook his head, undressed and stepped into the shower.

* * *

James was still in the dormitory when Sirius emerged from the showers, hair dripping wet and towel wrapped around his waist. James was sprawled out comfortably on Sirius' bed, reading an old copy of Quidditch Weekly. 

"So," he said, folding up the magazine dramatically, "Going to tell old Jamesy boy, here, what's bothering you so much you can't even face eating?"

"Where's Remus, and Peter?" he added Peter as an afterthought. He proceeded to get dressed into his robes.

"In the common room. Is it your family? Because you got Sorted into Gryffindor, not Slytherin?" Sirius was impressed with James' accuracy, however annoying his persistance was. This must have been evident on his face as James smiled smugly.

"You don't give up, do you?" James' grin widened.

"Ah, you have me all figured out. Now, back to you," James pressed, "let's get you figured out. So, you're worried you may have pushed your parents too far this time in the ongoing war between you and their wacked beliefs?"

"It's not just that, I also - hey! How do you do that?"

"It's a gift," James said airily. He raised his eyebrows, indicating Sirius to continue. Sirius was still contemplating the possibility of a first-year HogwartsLegilimens, but answered despite himself. Something about James compelled Sirius to open up to him.

"It's just, this is it. I mean, it's real. I really am finally out of my parent's evil, fascist, pureblood supremist grasp. They can't get to me here. They can't make me question myself like I have been doing since I could think for myself. I have finally made a choice, or rather, have done something without them breathing down my neck, making me feel like an insignificant failure of a son."

James was taken aback for more than a second, but he recovered himself quickly.

"Hey, you should be proud you failed them as a son. I mean, otherwise you would have ended up a dirty great Slytherin, and that is a fate I would wish upon no-one."

"Yeah, I guess," Sirius was not entirely convinced, and there was still something nagging at the back of his mind, "but why didn't I? Why didn't I end up in Slytherin? How did I break the mould? How come I don't agree with my parents?"

"Because you aren't like them. You aren't even remotely Slytherin and you most certainly are not a Black. Just because you share the name doesn't mean that's who you are. Sirius, the Sorting Hat put you in Gryffindor for a reason. It knew you weren't your family. My Dad told me, the Sorting Hat never lies." James stood up, as if the conversation were finished. As if it were all resolved. And actually, it was, and so Sirius followed him out of the dormitory.

* * *

Sirius' enlightened mood did not last too long into his breakfast. As apparently expected, due to the fact that the majority of the Hogwarts population seemed completely unfazed by it, hundreds of magnificent owls came swooping into the Great Hall from some gap somewhere in the ceiling and swarmed the four long tables. Peter fell off the bench, he was so frightened, and even calm and sedate Remus paled in surprise. 

The exact cause of Sirius' return to depression was a red and steaming envelope that was delivered to him by an all too familiar looking, contemptuous owl.

"Fornacis," Sirius spat in greeting to the Black family owl. The owl dropped the letter, with some hint of amusement in his beady eyes, on Sirius' marmalade toast.

He scowled as the bird flew off. Out of the corner of his eye, as he couldn't bare to look anywhere but at the smoking letter infront of him, he saw James give him a sympathetic look. He also noticed the bewildered looks from both Remus and Peter, who clearly didn't know what a Howler was.

Sirius ignored the sudden quiet that had crept along the Gryffindor table, still not daring to look away from the smouldering parchment. With noticibly shaky fingers, he silently unfurled the envelope from its ribbon and slit it open with a brave grimace. His mother's high-pitched shriek erupted from it, deafening the Hall into petrified silence.

'_GRYFFINDOR?? NEVER IN THE HISTORY OF THE NOBLE HOUSE OF BLACK HAS MORE DISGRACE BEEN BROUGHT UPON THE FAMILY! YOU ARE AN EMBARRASSMENT TO YOUR NAME AND AN APPALLING EXCUSE FOR A SON! IF YOU THINK YOU ARE WELCOME BACK FOR CHRISTMAS YOU HAVE ANOTHER THINK COMING! IN ALL MY LIFE I HAVE NEVER - THE LEGACY OF THE BLACK NAME IS IN JEOPARDY BECAUSE OF YOU! HOW DARE YOU INSULT YOUR FATHER AND I WITH THIS FOUL ATTEMPT AT REBELLION? YOU DON'T FOOL ME, SIRIUS BLACK, YOU ARE PATHETIC! YOU DON'T DESERVE THE CHILDHOOD YOU HAVE RECIEVED, IF THIS IS HOW YOU PLAN TO THROW IT BACK IN OUR FACES! I AM DISGUSTED! YOU ARE WORSE THAN THE SCUM THAT INSULTS THE WORD WIZARD; WORSE THAN THE MUDBLOODS AND HALF-BREEDS AND FILTH THAT CLUTTER OUR WORLD!'_

Her screech continued to rise higher and higher until the end, where she shrieked so high-pitched the glass containing his pumpkin juice smashed and he was blinded by pumpkin pulp. The letter then promptly burst into flames, and landedas ashen scraps in Peter's porridge. Sirius was frozen, with a blank expression on his deathly pale face. He had been expecting something from his lovely mother but _that _was more than he could have dreamed. A high pitched squeal eruptedinto the silentHalland Sirius nervously glanced back at Peter's soiled porridge.The screech, however, had not been a continuation of theHowler but had come from another Black family member.

Narcissa had risen to her feet at her place on the Slytherin table to get a better look at the scandal, and her face was red from her laughing. She shrieked with glee as her eyes caught Sirius'. Sirius, who didn't take being made a fool of easily, grinned toothily. Then he, too, got to his feet and bowed so low his nose brushed the wooden tabletop. Then, to incredible applause, he sauntered out of the Great Hall, his wide grin still plastered to his face. It was a magnificent save, even if James had noticed the lack of spark in his eyes.

* * *

Sirius' swagger stopped as soon as he was clear of the Great Hall. But he kept James' earlier words in his mind as he gathered himself in the dormitory for his first lesson. How ironic, he thought bitterly to himself, as he eyed his new and pristeen timetable - well, apart from the pumpkin juice, that is - sullenly. First up was Defence Against the Dark Arts. 


	7. The Delightful Severus Snape

THE DELIGHTFUL SEVERUS SNAPE:

It had always been an 'illegal' holiday for Peter, Hallowe'en. As much as to say the word had been banned in his house as his parents didn't 'believe' in it. They hated the idea that children were knocking on stranger's doors and asking for sweets. It was dangerous, and it was rude. But it was exactly how muggles celebrated the occasion.

At Hogwarts, however, it was a completely different attitude. Hallowe'en was celebrated with a huge feast in the evening – with the Great Hall decorated in fantastic colours and a vast array of black bats. Professor Dumbledore had even promised a performance from a troupe of dancing skeletons.

Sirius and James were having a field day as they set upon planning as many pranks as they could for the feast that evening. It seemed Hallowe'en brought out the very worst in the two, and so, naturally, they were using that fact to their advantage. Severus-better-known-as-Snivellus Snape was at the forefront of most of their plans. Peter almost felt sorry for him, before remembering how nasty he had been in their double Potions lesson the day before.

* * *

It was a Wednesday afternoon and the four Gryffindors had just endured double Transfiguration and History of Magic that morning. Thus it was with very low spirits that they entered the dungeons classroom to begin a gruelling double period of potion-making. What better to brighten their moods, then, to have the lesson taught by the most sluggish and biased Hogwarts teacher they had known thus far; Professor Slughorn.

Head of Slytherin House, and didn't he let everyone know it, Professor Slughorn was known amongst the older students for his distinct favouritism over esteemed purebloods and talented students. The rest had to fend for themselves.

That included James, Peter, and absolutely Remus whom definitely lacked something of the skill and knack for potion-making. In fact, the book-worm of the four surprised them all by ending up the worst at the subject, although closely followed by a clumsy Peter. Peter, though, was not good at anything and so always ended up being the least favoured pupil of his classes.

It so happened that Remus and Peter had been paired to work on a fairly complicated Forgetfulness Potion, and it came as no surprise to anybody that they were failing the task, dismally. However, Snape seemed to enjoy the fact that the Gryffindor duo was so hapless at his best subject. He made the point of walking straight up to their smoking cauldron, which was supposed to be sweating slightly, and laughed horrendously. He then called Professor Slughorn over to ask him, very loudly and very sarcastically, if the potion was really meant to be the lurid green colour Remus and Peter had produced and not the sunny yellow that had been described on the board.

Slughorn simply chuckled jovially and shook his head, before giving Remus and Peter in turn a quick, patronising pat on the shoulder and following Snape over to his own cauldron, where he sang high praises to the smug, greasy haired boy. Snape actually had the cheek to call across the dungeon to Remus and Peter, who had both begun blushing madly, that they had forgotten to stew the beetle eyes for exactly sixteen minutes.

Although Remus and Peter were happy just to let it go, Sirius and James conspired to get revenge; spicy, delicious, dipped in apple sauce revenge.

* * *

The following afternoon found the four boys heading to the dormitories after lunch. As ever, James was telling Sirius in low tones about the latest shame-Snivellus-to-death-well-hopefully scheme. Remus had hung back slightly, going over his Charms notes and Peter had fallen into step with him, keen to know the plans but not so keen to be actively involved in them.

As he strained his ears to listen to Sirius' reply he caught the grimace that laced Remus' thin features for a second, and followed his friend's gaze. Snape was walking towards them, head down and long nose stuck in his Defence Against the Dark Arts textbook. He was muttering something to himself as he shuffled his long feet forwards. Peter grimaced, too, knowing what would happen once James or Sirius took notice of the dark form unwittingly walking straight into their path.

Sirius stopped walking suddenly and hit James excitedly in the arm. James looked at him, looked to where Sirius was motioning with his head and smirked.

"Oi, Snivellus, I hope that's not a library book or Madame Pince will have your liver for getting grease on the pages," James spat nastily. The boy looked at him and Peter noticed his face pale slightly. Instinctively, he reached into his robes for his wand but Sirius was faster.

"Densaugeo!" Sirius bellowed and immediately Snape's front teeth began to grow at an alarming rate.

"Expelliarmus!" James cried out as Snape fumbled desperately with his wand. The wand flew into James' left hand.

"Petrificus Totalus!" James added and Snape's arms snapped to his sides and he keeled over backwards, falling heavily on his back, his body rigid. Sirius and James grinned at each other then turned to meet approval from Peter, and an angry glare from Remus.

"Oh, come on, Remus. You know he deserved that!" Sirius tried. Remus' glare intensified.

"Reverse it, now. That wasn't fair; you caught him off guard," Remus used a stern, level voice, as if talking to a naughty child.

"Stop being so wet, Remus. It's just a laugh," James argued.

"It won't be a laugh when you get us all detention," Remus reasoned, frowning, "just reverse it and we won't get in trouble."

"I – I can't, I don't know how," Sirius looked down, red creeping up his neck in embarrassment.

"Typical!" Remus threw his hands up in exasperation. "Bloody typical, Sirius Black not doing your homework properly."

"Hey, I don't research more than I need to, and I hadn't planned on using the reversal spell!" Sirius exclaimed, outrage replacing shame as he towered above the smaller, lighter haired boy.

"Well then, I'm getting Professor McGonagall. She'll know how to fix this," Remus turned to leave but Sirius grabbed his arm tightly. He glared at Remus as he spoke.

"You can't do that, then we'll definitely get detention!" Sirius said angrily, his voice still holding its regal tone. Remus looked like he was cowering below the taller boys' height, and stare. He seemed unwilling to give up so easily, however.

"Oh, so now you think about detention! It's a bit late for remorse now, Sirius."

"I am not in the least bit remorseful. Snivellus deserved everything he got. I just don't see the point in turning ourselves in!"

"Because it's the right thing to do," Remus all but shouted.

"Remus, you can't turn us in, you're supposed to be our friend!" At that word Remus' stern look dissolved and a smile twitched at the corners of his mouth.

"Fine, we'll just leave him to be found. I'm sure someone will stumble upon him eventually," Remus glanced at Snape, whose teeth had now reached his toes. He had a defeated look on his face, but oddly his eyes were shining.

"That's the spirit!" James clapped him on the back, grinning. Sirius grinned as well, so Peter followed suit, albeit timidly.

* * *

"Where'd you learn that hex, Sirius? It was brilliant!" Peter gushed.

"Got it out of a book I nicked from the library in Grimmauld Place last year, sometime," Sirius answered offhandedly, though his smile betrayed his modesty. Peter wondered why Sirius always referred to his home in that distant manner. He had never said anything about his home life in the two months they had been at Hogwarts, not since the Howler.

"Sirius, reading a book, well I never," Remus teased.

"Hey, I read when it's necessary, and this was definitely necessary."

"Right, but you just happened to miss the section on reversal spells?" Remus questioned lightly. He said it nonchalantly, but it looked as though he was suppressing the urge to nag.

"Well of course. I mean, I don't see the point in hexing someone, only to reverse it in order not to get in trouble. It pretty much defeats the whole point of the hex, itself," Sirius said.

"Yeah, you might as well not have bothered hexing them in the first place," James added, running his hand for the fourteenth time that day through his unruly hair.

"Now there's a thought," Remus said with a small smile.

The four of them were lounging around a large beech tree by the lake, waiting for the Hallowe'en Feast to begin. Remus had a book on his lap – the intention had been to read it but he had yet to get the chance – with Sirius and James sprawled out on the grass in front of him. Peter sat to the right of Remus, watching as Sirius and James flirted with a group of second year girls that were huddled by the lake.

Sirius had tied his school tie around his head and was stretched out over his school robes, hands laced together behind his head. He was leaning slightly to the side so he could still stare seductively at the girls. James had ruffled his hair so much that it had gone static, but he still managed to pull it off somehow. He had his top buttons undone on his shirt and had rolled the sleeves up to his elbows.

An icy wind picked up, causing both scantily clad boys to shiver. They tried to act as if they weren't cold but they were having a hard time in doing so, it being nearly winter and all. The giggling girls by the lake hadn't noticed, though, and, Peter noted with envy, were still flirting outrageously with them.

James glanced at his watch.

"Hmm, almost time for plan get-Snivellus-thrown-out-of-the-Halloween-Feast, methinks," he said, watching for Sirius' reaction.

"Quite right Mister Potter. I can almost smell the brilliance already," Sirius grinned manically, sitting up. Remus grimaced, closing his eyes but said nothing. Peter stood up, excited about the prank ahead. James and Sirius had kept uncharacteristically quiet about it, but Peter could guess that it would be something extravagant. They weren't exactly ones for subtlety.

* * *

Peter sat on the wooden bench, his stubby arms resting on the surprisingly bare tabletop. He looked excitedly over at James and Sirius, who were sitting opposite him, grinning madly. James kept adjusting his glasses, which he only did when he was excited or nervous about something, and Sirius was bobbing up and down in his place. Remus, on the other hand, was characteristically calm and quiet; his long, thin fingers rapping the table serenely.

Professor Dumbledore stood up from his centre position on the High Table, and as he peered at the students over his half-moon spectacles Peter saw James nudge Sirius in the arm then run a hand through his hair. Sirius' grin broadened.

Looking over the table to Remus, he raised his eyebrows suggestively at him, and in return received a bored sigh. Peter didn't understand why Remus was so uptight about breaking the rules. Pranking was brilliant fun. It's not like they got caught, that often. Peter noticed, however, that Remus hadn't done more than suggest his clear disapproval since the Snape incident earlier.

The Great Hall had been decorated with over two thousand live bats, and giant carved pumpkins housing flickering candles hovered over the tables. There were thick rolls of orange streamers adorning the ceiling, which, itself, mirrored the calm, dark night sky.

Dumbledore began by wishing everyone a happy Hallowe'en before raising his arms in an open gesture and crying, "Now, let's eat!"

As he spoke, the tables became littered with mountains of glorious foodstuffs, including cottage pie and gammon steak, jacket potatoes and sausages in gravy. Peter let out an audible gasp, his eyes wide at the sight. He didn't know what to go for first and so began piling his plate high with everything within reach.

He had just lifted his goblet of fresh pumpkin juice to his lips when he heard a shout of laughter behind him. He turned around to see where the cry had come from and saw, to his great amusement, a very angry Severus Snape cursing as he flailed swollen, red hands around in front of him, clearly in pain.

Peter turned back around to face James and Sirius, who grinned ecstatically."We put Bulbadox Powder on his cutlery," James answered to Peter's questioning smile. Peter looked behind him again and saw that, indeed, Snape's palms had acquired several nasty-looking boils.

"We were hoping he would begin eating before he realised, but this is just as good!"Sirius exclaimed as a harassed Professor Slughorn hurried down the aisle between Ravenclaw and Slytherin.

The four of them watched as Professor Slughorn escorted a humiliated Snape out of the Great Hall, clearly heading to the Hospital Wing.

"Let the games begin!" James cried, rubbing his palms together. Peter heard Remus groan quietly.

* * *

Every confectionary item you could want now cluttered the tables of the Great Hall, as Hogwarts began tucking into their pudding. Acid pops, chocolate frogs, choco balls, jelly slugs, ginger newts, pepper imps and sugar quills were but a few of the desired sweets supplied in copious amounts to the students.

"Now that Snape has been taken care of, we can have some real fun!" Sirius smirked, his mouth still full of ice cream.

James nodded swiftly and leaned forward slightly, as if hiding something. Peter saw him reach for something inside his robes: his wand.

"Wingardium Leviosa," James whispered, barely moving his lips, and flicked his wand lightly underneath the table.

The gigantic chocolate gateau in the centre of the Slytherin table rose a few feet into the air. James flicked his wand again. The gateau crashed back down, showering the surrounding Slytherins with icing and chocolate sponge.

James sat back innocently, replacing his wand into his robes. Sirius let out a bark-like laugh, which set James off. Peter began laughing nervously at first, and then downright howled with laughter. Even Remus began chuckling despite himself, which ruined the effect of his stern glare.

Quite suddenly, the Great Hall erupted into laughter and soon more food was being sent forth across the Hall. Sirius, now feeling bolder from the success of the last prank, even sent a bowl of rhubarb and custard flying towards Professor Slughorn, who ducked just at the right moment, causing it to land on the tomato-red face of one Professor McGonagall.

"Brilliant!" James exclaimed.

"Priceless!" Sirius mopped a tear from the corner of his eye.

Peter ducked as a plate of whipped cream just graced the top of his head. He looked around at the scene unfolding in the Hall. Everywhere he turned, pudding was being catapulted from tables, sweets were being flung at the backsides of various professors and cakes were being thrown unceremoniously at other students. Professor Flitwick was trying to call attention to the Hall, whilst Professor McGonagall was yelling angrily at a couple of other first years, who couldn't stop laughing at the altogether unthreatening sight of their Transfiguration teacher dripping custard from her long nose.

Peter looked down the High Table to where Professor Dumbledore still sat, calmly polishing off his plate of lemon meringue pie. Once he was quite done, he rose from his seat and cast his hands over the manic scene of the Hall.

"SILENCE!" he called, and opened his arms wider still. The food on the tables, and the floor, and the walls, and the ceiling, and the tapestries, vanished. The Great Hall fell silent immediately and the only evidence that a food fight had taken place was the remaining pudding covering several students' robes, and Professor McGonagall.

"If McGonagall glares any harder her lips will disappear!" Sirius noted happily. James smirked proudly.

"Would all students please make their way to your appropriate Common Rooms? The Hallowe'en Feast is now over. Goodnight, and sweet dreams." Professor Dumbledore might have been trying to sound stern, Peter didn't know, but no one could miss the smile playing at his lips.

The students filed out of the Hall quickly, keen to clean up but still laughing and joking about what had just happened.

"Best Hallowe'en Feast yet!" Peter heard a sixth year Ravenclaw declare happily to his friend, who was covered head to toe in chocolate pudding, and nodding furiously.

"Our work here is done, I think, Mister Potter," Sirius said.

"I believe so, Mister Black, and what a fine job we did," James said.

Peter grinned, Remus rolled his eyes, and the four of them headed up to Gryffindor Tower, where they would no doubt achieve anything but sleep.


	8. The Whomp of the Willow

AUTHOR'S NOTE: omgosh!! i am sooooo sorry i havent updated in months. (!) i have been soooo stressed with this chappy just not flowing and stuff but here it is so i HOPE you like it and i promis you the next chapter will be out sooner. i think. oh dear. just read!

DISCLAIMER: i own nothing. jk rowling owns everything. big wet, sloppy t.e.a.r.

In the few weeks that followed The Feast, Remus found himself less and less inclined to scold James or Sirius whenever they tormented Snape; letting himself be told that Snape had started it, or deserved it. Of course, Snape probably had, but that certainly wasn't an excuse to break school rules. It was just; Sirius had called him their friend.

He, Remus Lupin, had friends, real friends. He didn't want to lose that. Not even if it meant turning a blind eye to their antics. It was only some harmless rule breaking, wasn't it?

For Remus, however, rule breaking was exactly what had cost him a normal life. It was the reason he changed behind the curtains every night for fear that someone might ask about The Scar if they saw it. Was the reason he had never had real friends before Hogwarts. The reason he nearly didn't get into Hogwarts in the first place.

Remus sat back against the plush sofa in the Common room, watching idly as James beat Peter easily at a game of Exploding Snap. Sirius was absent from the warmth, instead carrying out yet another detention for Professor von Jaeger, the Defence professor. Remus thought it rather odd not to see the rambunctious heir to the Black throne. The four were barely seen apart from one another, consequence of them having the same timetable and sharing the same dorm, and perhaps the fact that they had become very good friends over the months. The word still made him smile: friend.

And the friends he had were brilliant.

James was protective and fiercely loyal, and he was extremely clever. He was also very charming and likeable, perhaps consequence of him being an only child. He never seemed to be anything less than happy. Sirius was very playful and was constantly thinking ahead to the next prank. He, like James, had little time to spare for lessons but still managed to do very well. Remus could tell he had a dark past, but the brightness in his eyes told him Sirius also had a very bright present, and future.

Peter was less easy to define. He was a fairly hapless student, coming last in everything bar Potions out of the four of them. He was also very self-deprecating, though this was something Remus could relate to, and was constantly asking for reassurance. He never seemed to hold any opinions of his own either, but perhaps he was just shy and was still getting used to everyone. Any which way, he still made for great company, being very genuine in his demeanour.

Remus smiled as Peter's cards yet again blew up in his face, leaving behind a blackened but grinning boy. James patted him on the shoulder in reassurance and Peter's grin seemed to widen slightly.

"Want a game, Remus?" James called over to him. Remus glanced down at his open Herbology textbook, contemplating the benefits of doing his homework over having fun. He settled for fun, just this once. He would, after all, have plenty of years of homework doing. He needn't start right away.

* * *

"Please, Dad, just one story? The one about the old hat, please, that was my favourite. Please?" Remus berated his father desperately, the hunger in his young eyes startling his poor father. John Lupin sighed deeply, worry lines etched permanently on his brow.

"Alright, just the one," he ironed the crease between his eyebrows with his thumb, "but don't tell your mother."

Remus grinned and held a small, bony finger to his pink lips, gesturing his promise of silence. John sat up straighter and Remus leaned closer, excitement edging him further and further off his bed.

"Before you can take your place as a student in Hogwarts, it is tradition to be Sorted into one of the four houses. They are; Gryffindor, for the brave at heart; Ravenclaw, for the quick-minded; Slytherin, for the cunning and pure of blood; and Hufflepuff, for the all the rest." John paused dramatically. Remus let out a small squeak of anticipation.

"The first-year students, not yet Hogwarts certified, are gathered in the centre of the Great Hall in front of all the older students. Before them is placed a great, old Hat on a stool. A slit in the Hat forms a mouth and it begins to sing. Always the same song. It sings of the four founders of Hogwarts. It sings of Godric Griffindor, of Salazar Slytherin, of Rowena Ravenclaw, and of Helga Hufflepuff.

"And then, once the hat is quite finished its song, the nervous first year students are called up, one at a time, to sit on the stool and place the great Hat on their heads. The Hat then considers them, by reading what is held within their young minds, and Sorts them into one of the four Houses."

"It reads their minds? A hat? How?" Remus interrupts breathlessly. Although, considering how many times he had asked that question in his short life, he should have known to expect the answer he was given.

"I don't know son, but, yes, that is what it does. It sits on your head, whispering into your ear and all the while it is searching through your deepest thoughts and desires."

"But - but doesn't it hurt?" Remus implored.

"Not at all, son, not at all. Still, the idea of having something read your mind like a book is less than an appealing experience. And so, the Sorting is regarded with quite well-placed fear and uncertainty."

Remus stared up at his father in awe. John had stood up and was bent over him, tucking his slight body into the downy covers and kissing him lightly on the forehead, through the thick shock of tawny hair.

"Love you, son," and Remus saw the intensity in his father's eyes, not quite understanding it but accepting it nonetheless. He pulled himself up onto his elbows, which was quite a feat considering how tightly John had wrapped him in his cocoon of quilts, and looked his father directly in the eyes.

"I love you, too, Dad."

Nine year old Remus watched his father exit the room and closed his eyes slowly, peering through his eyelashes as his father turned back to face him, as if to check on him just once more, before turning into the warm glow of light and fading away.

* * *

John knew he shouldn't have told Remus the story, wishing he hadn't placed too much hope into his young, lycanthropic son's head. He realised the chances of his son actually procuring a place at the School for Wizardry were highly unlikely, but he couldn't resist the temptation to hear his son's whimpers of excitement as he described bewitched staircases, ghost friends and transfiguration lessons.

It tugged at his heartstrings to know his son would never have those experiences which he had had such a plentiful supply of. It terrified him greatly to know that his son would always be shunned by the public. And it was his fault. Damn Fenrir.

Of course, he had explained to Remus, very gently, that it would be almost impossible for him to be allowed into Hogwarts. He didn't give him a straightforward no because he wanted his son to have that hope to cling onto; Merlin knows he was clinging to it, himself, with all his might.

* * *

Remus knew he couldn't let his new friends get too close, or allow himself to get too close, either. And he knew he was slipping. He knew, slowly, he was letting down his guard around them. He had to do something. He had to keep the distance between them, between them and him.

It was strange for Remus to have friends. His family had moved about so much in his short life, his own begrudged fault, and so he had never been able to hang on to any friends he managed to make. Not at least when they found out what he was, and the Lupins had to move, once again. He wasn't entirely sure how to act around them, how to treat them because the fear of losing them was so great; he couldn't bear to lose them.

It hurt. It hurt each time he saw his parents packing away their scarce belongings into several worn muggle packing boxes. It hurt to see the looks on their faces.

Disappointment. Disappointment in him.

The day the Letter had arrived was probably Remus' favourite day so far. The look on his parents' faces, pride, had stuck with him since. He wouldn't let them down; he would listen to his father, and never let anyone get close enough to find out.

* * *

Remus woke up to a very excited call of his own name. He struggled out of his covers, tightly wrapped around his lithe body from the torment of the night's sleep he had not received. His mother called his name again, far more impatiently and far more excited. In his own excitement he ended up flinging himself off his bed, landing painfully on his elbow and still wrapped in his bedcovers.

He let out a gurgle of annoyance and kicked and shoved the covers off himself. Today was the day the Hogwarts letters went out. He knew a letter had come for him by his mother's anxious tone, and he wouldn't let his irritating bedcovers keep him from opening it.

Downstairs, he met both his parents, fully dressed despite the early hour, and grinning supportively at him from the living room sofa. Remus was still only wearing his pyjamas and felt slightly foolish, considering the monumental event ahead of him.

He smiled a small, meek smile at them and then let his eyes rest upon the envelope set neatly on the coffee table, stood up against the vase of flowers. Daffodils: his mother's favourite, and also his own. He stared at them, taking in each detail, from the tips of their petals right down to the stems, taking care to memorise the exact colour change of the petals from tip to root. He was stalling, prolonging the time in which he would inevitably have to open that envelope, and read his own fate.

"Go on, son, before we all pass out from the excitement," his father nodded at him with kind, reassuring eyes. They twinkled in the light thrown across him from the living room window, accenting the deep blue hue. The creases, more pronounced than ever, around them seemed to reassure Remus further still, though Remus had no idea why. With a quick glance at his mother's beautiful, shining face, Remus picked up the letter and, in a rushed haste, slit it open with his fingers and ripped out the letter, almost tearing it in his angst.

He couldn't look at it, though. He couldn't bear the thought of reading those words which would tell him, almost certainly, that he couldn't attend the Wizarding School. That it just wasn't appropriate, safe.

He held the letter out to his father, who shook his head, and so Remus thrust it upon his mother, who scanned it quietly before reading aloud;

"Dear Mr Lupin, we are pleased to inform you that you have a place at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment. Term begins on the first of September. We await your owl by no later than the thirty-first of July. Yours Sincerely, Minerva McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress."

Remus had stopped listening after the word 'place'. He nearly fainted as he collapsed into his father's lap and then flung his arms around his mother.

Tears streamed down all three faces. Remus wasn't particularly accustomed to seeing his father cry, but the smile that accompanied the tears made it all seem perfect. Everything was right with the world because he, Remus Lupin, was going to Hogwarts.

* * *

"Where are you off to, Remus?" Remus looked up from his packing to meet his friend's eye.

"Visiting my mother. She's ill," came Remus' short reply. James gave him a sympathetic look and didn't press. He'd already used that excuse, but for now it would have to do. That was the story his father had concocted and so that was the story Remus would give them.

"Oh, has she gotten worse? I'm sorry, mate," Sirius came over to where Remus was crouched over his trunk and clapped him on the back gently. Remus nodded in thanks before lifting his satchel over his shoulder and standing up.

"See you in a couple of days, then," Remus told them as he walked out of the dormitory, careful to hide the grimace that was now pasted on his face. The moon would be rising in less than an hour, Remus could feel it.

Remus followed Madame Pomfrey across the lawn, in the direction of the Whomping Willow. Even at this time of evening it was thrashing about violently, as if it knew they were approaching. Remus had been close to that tree only once before; his first Hogwarts transformation at the end of September. It was now xOctober and, once again, it was a full moon tonight.

Madame Pomfrey stuck out her arm to stop Remus, and then glanced at him, telling him with her eyes not to move from that spot. She picked up a long stick that lay abandoned before them and leaned forwards so she could prod a knot at the base of the tree. Remus prayed she wouldn't be knocked out by one of the flailing branches. She stretched a little further and the stick poked into the knot. Suddenly, the wild tree was stilled, as if petrified.

Remus stared at the oddly calm tree, half-entranced, half-frightened. He didn't want to move. He knew what awaited him down that tunnel behind the knot in the tree. He didn't want to go through it again.

* * *

The muscle spasms were the warning, with dizzy head spins alerting him to the fact that he was slowly losing his conscious self. Remus sat on the low down, four poster bed and waited. His skinny legs were hanging over the edge of the bed as he looked up at the wooden framework above him.

He didn't like the feeling of sitting, naked, in an entirely unfamiliar room. It wasn't as if anyone would come in and see him, he knew that, but it didn't help his awkwardness. A cold spun up his spine and he felt his arms tense up suddenly only to have the feeling disperse within seconds.

Not long now. He glared out the bare window to the side of the bed. He could see the moon winking at him, mocking him. His back arched tightly and he groaned at the moon. He felt his fists lock together and then relax wonderfully.

He fell backwards so his back rested on the lumpy mattress of the unused bed. Closing his eyes he willed the transformation to be over already. Another dizzy spell sent him cursing to the ceiling.

His feet cramped painfully and he had to bite his fist to keep from yelping. He breathed heavily until the cramp wore off and as it did so a blinding pain shot up his legs, as if they had just broken in four places each, which, in fact, they had. His head pounded, clouding the pain that was now travelling in waves across his whole body.

He felt bones breaking, muscles expanding and contracting, blood pumping furiously fast and a sickening feeling as his face began to elongate into something snout-like. His long hair was receding and grey fur was erupting all over his clammy skin. Hands swelled into claws and his spine stooped until it was a humped curve behind his now smaller and narrower head. Which was about the time Remus Lupin exited the world, and the wolf was engaged.


End file.
